Among The Stars .:Itachi x Fem!Reader:. Soulmate AU

The Odd Star Out

[Name] knows her family looks at her like she's strange. Like she's an alien. Like she's a black sheep.

She scoffs to herself at the dinner table.

A black star. Just a strange and unimaginable phenomenon. 

It's just like how everyone else in the world stares at her, but she'll never get used to it.

Although they all fascinate over her eyes, they aren't too keen about her mannerisms. They expected her to be a leader, a little bit more assertive, bossier perhaps; not this kind-natured, soft-spoken, humble girl now-turned-woman. They detest her passiveness despite their love for her; for her eyes.

Every year, she gives the same unenthusiastic toast, the same forced smile, and the same timid laugh; and every year, they still clap as if she's giving a speech to millions. They all raise a glass, old and young, and yell out "Cheers" when she seats herself.

And every year, the butterflies become worse. [Name] fears they'll find out how much she hates it here, how much she hates Granny Celeste, and how much she hates her eyes. She knows once they find this out---if they ever find this out---then they'll reprimand her. Tell her that a person with stars would never act this way, and tell her that she's unworthy and selfish.

She can hear them now, nagging, whining how they'd just love to know who their soulmate would be, how easy starry-eyed people have it in the world.

But they're wrong. All wrong.

[Name] sits, without saying a word, staring down at her food. Her smile falls once the attention is no longer on her. The noise level of everyone speaking at once, the screams of children, the laughter of older folks, the clinking of glasses, scraping of forks, it all enters her ears, smothering any thoughts that linger into her head.

If they knew how miserable I am, how miserable this party makes me, how everything in my life isn't easy, [Name] thinks, glancing at the smiling faces around her. Would they change their mind about me? Treat me normal? Help me? Genuinely care for me? Would they stop all of this?

The noise drowns out her thoughts.

She seems to already know the answer.

Of course not.

...

When everything dies down---when uncles are outside in the backyard smoking, and when the aunts are inside having a sip or two of wine, when the kids are playing together; when everyone is doing something---[Name] finds herself a small corner to sit in. Alone. 

No one's bothering her. Not even Krista and her lackey, Christy. She wants to pull out her phone, but who would she text? She doesn't really have friends. Neji is probably working, Hinata, his cousin, isn't much of a conversationalist, and her parents are already here, conversing with other parents.

She's such an oddball. If she had normal eyes, she'd fit in with everyone else. She'd glorify the starry-eyed people of the world but, at the same time, curse them for having such perfect genes. She'd be able to talk to her family without feeling guilty or strange. 

[Name] wonders for a moment if Granny Celeste felt the same way. If she had the same problems before meeting Grandpa Pito. She wishes she could ask these questions to her.

If only I could time travel.

[Name] moves from her corner, finding herself back upstairs. At the end of the long hallway lies Granny Celeste's room. She feels herself gravitating towards it. Her feet take step after step until once again, she's at the desk from before. She reaches for the third drawer, pulling it open with ease.

The book from before---Granny Celeste's diary---sits in place, waiting to be held after being locked up for over a hundred years. And [Name] does just that.

She opens to the first page, and written at the top in semi-cursive is:

"My name is Harribel Celeste Pinkins, but people just call me Celeste 'cause of my eyes. On this date, I am 14 years old. If you're my brother, you better git outta here! This is personal!"

[Name] gives a chuckle at that sentence, and skips a few more where Celeste threatens to "clobber 'em" if she finds out that he's reading her diary. She finds a good place to continue reading:

"People tell me that my eyes are made of stardust and that I'm super special. But I don't feel any different from any other girl in town. I still play with dolls, I still write in diaries, I still cry and get angry just like the rest of 'em, so why does everyone treat me different? I'm always teased about my eyes."

There's a scribble and then a sentence that gives [Name] whiplash.

"I hate my eyes."

[Name] closes the book, her heart beating fast in her chest. She feels her throat dry as her eyes mist over. An unknown emotion slithers into the deepest pits of her soul; it's something akin to understanding.

Although it was only a few sentences, they struck home for her. She was just like everyone else, but different only because they treated her different. 

She holds the diary to her chest as the emotions overwhelm her.

For once, she doesn't feel different. There was someone out there just like her, and there's probably more.

She doesn't feel different.

... 

[Name] takes the book home with her. She doesn't tell anyone about this incident since she knows they'll tell her to put it back and call her a thief. Regardless of what they will think, [Name] feels a connection with the diary. With only its first entry, it has made her shed tears. It has shaken and stirred up her heart.

And right now, it's the only thing that makes sense.

When [Name] finally gets home, she goes straight to her room. The book is placed on her desk, amongst the other junk. As she flops on her bed, ready to fall into a deep sleep, her phone buzzes in her pocket. With a click of a button and a flick of her finger, she's staring at the text message.

"Are we still going out for drinks tomorrow?"  It reads.

[Name's] initial reaction is confusion until she realizes that she made a promise to Neji. Fingers fly across the screen, her reply almost immediate.

"Yes! Of course! Where at?"

Within a minute, Neji replies back with an address. The corners of her lips curl upward into a smile. Although this isn't a date, [Name] treats it like one, and it sets her heart aflutter.

She wants to tell Neji about the book, about how there was someone who felt the exact same way she does now, but her fingers only hover above the screen. Instead, she types:

"See ya tomorrow."

...

A/N: I love this story. I truly honestly do, but idk if anyone else does :/ oh well.
Love ya byebye!